Reflect Me Not
by Delirious Daydream
Summary: "Look into the mirror - What do I see? A sheet of glass that doesn't reflect me!" 2p!Hetalia. Enough said.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia; credit goes to Himaruya-sama! This is a product of my imagination, and copyright infringement is NOT intended.**

 **Warnings: This story may contain strong language, violence, and hints of yaoi. It is rated M for these reasons and possibly others. Consider yourself warned.**

 **~*Prologue*~**

Darkness. Despair. Destruction.

Such negative, yet oh-so honest words to describe the hell hole I call 'home'. You'd think that I'm exaggerating, but I leave the theatrics to my older, flamboyant, embarrassing excuse of a brother. Yes, 'home' is a place where crime is at an all-time high, where despicable acts go unpunished, where death is a common occurrence.

As the representation of North Italy, some expect me to influence the country for worse or for better. Ha! Just because I am Italy does not mean that Italy is me. And if you think that doesn't make any sense, well then you can just screw a cactus for all I care. The gist of everything is that, while I represent the present state of my country, I do not have the capability of directly influencing whatever the hell happens to it. That in turn means I am unable to cause or prevent the disasters that strike my land. In the simplest of terms for those that are slow on the uptake:

Shit happens whether I wish for it or not.

However, I am not the only one living in a wasteland. In fact, the entire world was plunged into darkness _decades_ ago. The cause? Three countries that sought to dominate the Earth, to enslave the other countries to do their bidding. Those three countries?

The Axis.

In other words, I, along with my allies Japan and Germany, am responsible for worldwide suffering!

…Confused? After I explained that I cannot directly influence my country, I contradicted myself by saying that I am the cause of global despair? Allow me to explain.

My 'boss' entered an alliance that was formed between the leaders of Germany and Japan. Our governments came to the unanimous decision of joining forces in order to accomplish mutual goals for the betterment of our individual countries. The goals? As previously mentioned: world domination. We sought to expand territory beyond our borders for the sake of accessing resources previously unavailable to us.

Land, of course, was not to be given to us easily. The other countries had something to say about our plan of conquest, though not for very noble reasons. No, they wanted to conquer land for themselves and prevent Axis from taking the world before they could. One misstep later, the whole world was dragged into a devastating war—devastating for the losers, that is. The Allies stood no chance against the combined military might of the Axis!

What? Other way around…? Ha! You must be talking about _that_ side.

In _that_ world, everything is completely opposite. Countries thrive, Axis lost…and Italy is a pussy. Who would ever want to live with that? To live in a place where grass grows green, where scum is cleaned off the streets, where Italy is loved rather than feared? Concepts I've only ever heard of are made reality on _that_ side. Justice, peace, love…I have no interest in any of those things. I am Luciano Vargas, and **I** rule the world. People, citizens and countries alike, **fear** me!

…Then why? Why do I watch my counterpart from afar and wish so desperately that the things he had were in my possession? Why do I feel sick comparing my twisted reality to his perfect fantasy? Why do I feel so empty? Why, why, why?

Hm. Got off track, did I? Well, you'll have to excuse me; I just remembered that I have a…prior engagement. Yes. What is it? Well, if you must know…

If I rule _this_ world, then why not **_that_** one? And yes, it is exactly what it sounds like. Now, as we say here in Italy:

 **Arrivederci~**

 **AN: Reviews encourage writing. INDULGE ME.**


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Delirious Daydream here! This is my first Hetalia fic, so I'd appreciate feedback now and again. My goal is to update once a week or every two weeks, but we'll see how that goes...**

 **And yes, I made the cover image =^-^=**

 ***The warnings and disclaimer were included in the prologue, meaning I won't bother repeating myself. I will include additional warnings where I see fit, however. Enjoy~***

 **~*Chapter One*~**

 _Swish. Flip. Swish. Flip._

The blade caught the light perfectly, glinting a silvery-white as it was twirled carelessly between idle fingertips.

 _Swish. Flip. Swish—_

 ** _Thud_**.

One swift movement saw the knife embedded into the opposite wall, a hair's breadth away from slicing into the flesh of the figure that stood in the doorway. Said figure did not flinch; he stood with a rigid posture, his expression blank.

"Italien," He greeted solemnly.

The knife's owner allowed a broad, cat-like grin to spread upon his face, eyes glinting as sharply as the blade when he stepped forward to claim it. Magenta clashed with lavender.

"Lutz," He cooed, yanking the knife out of the wall effortlessly, "No need to be so stiff. It's _Luciano_ when there is only the two of us, sì?"

Lutz retained his stance and silence, to the other's disappointment. Luciano sighed and trailed the knife gently across the German's jawline, a mock frown upon his face.

"Won't you respond when I speak to you…?"

The silence following was tense, an unvoiced threat hanging in the air. * _You better talk before I tear that useless tongue from your mouth and eat it for dinner._

"…Kuro is on his way, as you requested," Lutz finally replied, his dead gaze shifting elsewhere, anywhere but those intensely sinister pools of magenta.

A sign of submission. _I cannot defy you; you win._

"Oh~" Luciano purred, sheathing his knife. "Bene. Why don't we wait for him here in my office, hmm?"

No more words were spoken, nor were they needed. The pair settled down once more, Luciano leaning back in his chair with his feet propped on the desk while Lutz chose to remain against the wall…far away from the other. His dull eyes were careful not to stray upon the other's slight form, though he remained guarded in the case that Luciano decided to 'tear him a new one'. The German inwardly winced in memory of his many scars—as well as how he received them. Of course he was careful not to tremble visibly; Luciano hated displays of weakness with a vengeance and would spare no mercy for those that dared cower before him.

The personified representation of Japan soon appeared, nodding curtly at the two in a form of greeting. He opted for standing directly in front of Luciano's desk, a painfully bold gesture in Lutz's opinion. Kuro, though lacking in the speech department, carried a defiant spirit and went to great lengths to display it—without many words, of course. The Japanese man was even smaller than Luciano, yet the air about him was just as intimidating, so the two tended to clash personalities each and every time they met.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Kuro," Luciano greeted, eyes narrowed slightly. _You better have a damn good reason for being late._

"Itaria," Kuro responded icily, "Explain." _None whatsoever. Deal with it._

"Still a man of few words, I see! Well, let's get on with this meeting, shall we?" Luciano chuckled, albeit a bit darkly before continuing.

"I have realized that there is more out there for us to conquer, more land for us to claim. Though, the task is a bit tricky, you see; our new territory lies in a world parallel to ours. The other side of the mirror, you could say~

"Why is this world so special? It is pure, untainted when compared to our pitiful existence. Almost like snow that has yet to be walked upon…" He sighed, almost wistfully.

"How are we going to get there?" Lutz asked, though his tone lacked curiosity. More like he asked for the sake of asking.

"With this~"

Luciano slapped a piece of paper to the desk, startling the other two slightly. It was crumpled and torn, yet the ink on the page was still legible despite its obvious many years of existence. Kuro picked up the paper and eyed it skeptically, though he didn't bother voicing his doubt. Lutz only looked on with mild interest at best.

"That is a page I tore from Oliver's book the last time I held a World Conference," The Italian explained, magenta eyes flashing with mischief.

The last time the Axis held a World Conference was some time a month ago, here in Rome, Italy. Such meetings had been held annually since the end of the Second World War with the sole purpose of reasserting authority over the other nations. Not much was discussed, and whenever something meaningful was brought up, the topic was diverted to issues and grievances previously mentioned.

Kuro and Lutz shared an uneasy glance before the latter gingerly took the paper. He began to read it aloud, to Luciano's delight:

 _Look into the mirror_

 _What do I see?_

 _A sheet of glass_

 _That doesn't reflect me!_

 _Fool me once_

 _In a matter of where_

 _Fool them twice_

 _Trade the burdens you bear!_

 _See their candle_

 _That which burns bright_

 _See their eyes_

 _Extinguish the light!_

"Nursery rhyme," Kuro said bluntly once Lutz finished.

"Ah, do not forget that this belonged to Oliver~" Luciano chimed. "Things are bound to be a bit confusing whenever he is involved!"

"You figured out what this means?" Lutz asked with a hint of incredulity creeping into his voice.

"Somewhat," Luciano admitted with a shrug, "Anyway, it seems that our ticket to the parallel world lies with our alternates! We'll need a reflective surface, like a mirror, to act as a portal. Deceiving the alternates into letting us through should open a pathway…

"However, the pathway will be open temporarily. Two of the same country cannot exist in the same place at the same time, you see, so in order to stay in _that_ world the alternates will have to be sent _here_."

"How?" Kuro asked.

A sinister grin stretched across Luciano's face. "Therein lies the fun part~"

* * *

"Ve, I'm tired~" A cheery Italian yawned. "Can we stop training for today?"

"Nein! Though we are not in a war right now, it is still useful for you to know how to defend yourself!" An angry German barked.

"Ludwig~"

"Feliciano—"

"The rice balls are complete," A polite voice cut in.

"Kiku! Meno Male! I thought my stomach was going to eat itself!" Feliciano exclaimed, running over to the Japanese male, kicking up sand as he went.

"You said you were tired!" Ludwig admonished with a glare, sputtering when some sand was sent his way from the Italian's eagerness.

"I'm never too tired when it comes to Kiku's tasty food!"

Ludwig sighed in defeat and joined his two friends to sit upon a blanket that Kiku had brought out for them to use.

The three were enjoying the scenery of New Zealand's home, as he was hosting the upcoming World Conference in Wellington. It was quite the change from their usual conference spots; there was an actual beach in town! Oriental Bay was beautiful with its crystal-blue waters and sun-soaked sand. Several homes and hotels lined the beach with lush, green foliage framing them in the most exotic way. No wonder the place was popular to visit!

"New Zealand really knows what he's doing," Feliciano commented around a mouthful of rice. "I'm actually looking forward to the meeting for once!"

"Ja, I agree. This place is wunderbar," Ludwig nodded. He appreciated the tranquility that the place offered.

It eased the stress of working with a lazy Italian.

"Would either of you care to try pickled plum?" The Japanese male held up a ceramic bowl of pickled plums for them to see. "I have enough for all of us."

"Ve, I'll have some!" Feliciano exclaimed, reaching out for the food eagerly.

"Are you prepared to give your input at the meeting?" Ludwig asked, already knowing the answer.

"Eh…?" Feliciano stared, head tilted slightly. "Can't I just look at your notes like I usually do?"

"Nein!"

"I am prepared. You can glance at my notes if you'd like, Feliciano-kun."

"Grazie—"

"Nein! Kiku, he has to do these things on his own—"

"Ludwig-san, I believe it would be in everyone's best interest—"

"Wait!" Feliciano interrupted, "Ludwig _and_ Kiku can help me! That way I don't copy off of Kiku or ruin the meeting for Ludwig!"

The Italian beamed proudly at his proposal while the other two shared stunned glances; Feliciano had successfully prevented what could have been an argument between them by making a meaningful suggestion. Kiku allowed a small smile while Ludwig gave a nod.

"Hai, it seems like a good alternative."

"Ja, I suppose I can go over notes with you…but you can't fall asleep until you get it right!"

"Ve, ok—wait, what?!"

* * *

Feliciano yawned as he woke the next morning, stretching his arms past his head. Sunlight filtered harshly through the windows, to which the Italian realized that he had neglected to close the curtains the previous night. Not to mention the fact that his room happened to face the rising sun this time around.

He was still tired, and it felt like he fried his brain trying to keep up with Ludwig's strict schooling as well as Kiku's complex methods of note-taking. Maybe getting both of his friends to help wasn't a good idea after all…

Feliciano stretched again, glancing at the nightstand beside the bed – it changed from 8:29AM to 8:30AM on the dot.

"Aw, crap!" The nation gasped, "I overslept! Ludwig is going to kill me—!"

 _Bang, bang-bang._ "Italien!"

"Waaahh!" Feliciano cried. He dove back under his covers.

 ** _Bang, bang-bang!_** "Italien, you had better be dressed _und_ ready for the meeting by the time I get this door open!" Ludwig growled.

With a whimper, Italy scrambled out of bed and made a beeline for the hotel room's bathroom, doing his best to tune out the angry German curses thrown at him. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and fumbled with his formal meeting attire, quickly glancing at his reflection.

"Wow!" He beamed, "This is an all-time record~"

His reflection grinned back at him—and then _winked_. Feliciano stared. And stared. And stared some more. Then he fled from the bathroom shrieking,

 ** _"_** ** _LUDWIG!"_**

He barreled through the room's door and into a startled German, who stumbled backwards from the force of a flying Italian. He barely caught the other in time to prevent both of them from crashing into the floor.

"What the Scheiße?!"

"Ludwig, Ludwig! It was so scary! I was getting ready in the bathroom and I looked into the mirror and I winked at me but I didn't actually wink Ludwig my reflection did it all by himself and it really freaked me out see—"

"Verdammt, Italien! Slow down so I can understand you!" Ludwig roared, shaking Feliciano slightly in an effort to just shut the other up.

"O-Okay, I'm sorry!" The Italian cried. "It's just…my reflection winked at me!"

Blink. "…That's all? You're crying over a trick of the light?"

"N-No! It wasn't a trick! I saw—"

"Enough!" Ludwig interrupted angrily, "We are already late as it is! Quit crying over something that may or may not have happened _und let's go_."

And with that the tall German personification turned on his heel, stalking in the general direction of the hotel lobby with the knowledge that the other would quickly follow; Feliciano hated being left behind all alone.

3, 2, 1…"Wait for me!"

 **AN: *The italics were implicit messages, by the way. You know the saying: actions speak louder than words...er, in this case, expressions.**

 **I also am not fluent in anything besides English, so pardon any mistakes I have made/will make? Another thing: I did research on New Zealand in order to get the little details. Why New Zealand? He and the rest of the 'Kirkland' family need more screen time, dammit!**

 **Reviews encourage writing. INDULGE ME.**


	3. Chapter 2

**~*Chapter Two*~**

Feliciano had run to keep up with the pissed-off German's agitated gait all the way to the Parliament House from their hotel. No matter how much he begged or complained, Ludwig wouldn't stop and listen to the Italian's 'stories' and would instead pick up his pace.

"But I know I wasn't seeing things!" Feliciano tried again. "You have to believe me!"

Ludwig paused just before the building's entrance. He let out a heavy sigh and turned to face the other with a stern, yet somewhat defeated expression.

"Look, Feliciano," He began, "You were probably staring at the mirror for too long or maybe it was the bathroom's lighting playing tricks on your eyes. Whatever it was doesn't matter—"

"But—"

"Nein! The point is that what you think you saw could not have happened because the whole thing is impossible! So just stop worrying about it and focus on the meeting, is that clear?"

"Sí, I won't bother you about it again, so please don't be mad at me!" The Italian agreed fervently.

Ludwig wasn't usually wrong, so if he says it was all in his head, then it must be true!

…Right?

* * *

As it would turn out, Ludwig's punctuality in the meeting room was necessary; ten minutes late and the place was in chaos! Since it was a World Meeting, most of the world's nations were gathered in one room, which wasn't the best idea considering the events of history. Most of the G8, of course, found themselves at the center of the conflict.

France and England were exchanging punches in the midst of bickering, the two practically at each other's throats as they fought.

America, with his already-too-obnoxiously-loud voice, was succeeding in being heard over everyone else's shouts by yelling at the top of his lungs, "WHERE THE _FUCK_ IS CANADIA?!"

Canada was right behind America trying to make his presence known, but was obviously failing and getting more frustrated with each passing second.

Japan was standing between Turkey and Greece, both of which seemed about to break into a fight of their own.

Then there were other countries that contributed to the madness which included but were not limited to: Russia, China, Spain, South Italy, Australia, and Denmark.

New Zealand was having a rough time getting the situation under control when he saw the two approach. Relief flooded his features as he ran over to greet them.

"Thank God! I thought you would never show up!"

"What is going on…?" Feliciano asked, looking around. He never realized how…lively the meetings were until then; he'd either have a _merenda_ or he'd take a nap until it was over.

"Let me handle this," Ludwig told New Zealand, who nodded gratefully.

The German marched to the center of the conference room and stood with a rigid posture, surveying the chaos. Then,

 **"THAT IS ENOUGH!"**

All of the nations froze instantaneously. The yelling had immediately quietened, and Feliciano saw firsthand how much respect that Ludwig had from everyone, the authority. _Ve, no one would listen if it were me,_ he figured. _Ludwig must be really special to get everyone's attention so quick!_ He was so admirable…

"Germany, dude you're late!" America gasped suddenly, as if realizing for the first time that the other had been absent.

While Ludwig worked with New Zealand to get the meeting back under control, Kiku approached the abnormally quiet Italian—after sneaking away from Turkey and Greece, that is.

"Ohayō, Feliciano-kun," Kiku greeted. Feliciano glanced up a bit too quickly, startled at the 'sudden' appearance of his friend.

"Oh, hey, Kiku," He replied, grin seeming unusually subdued. The Japanese nation blinked at the abnormal display.

"Ē to…daijōbudesuka, Itaria-san?" He asked with a sudden formality*. The shift in tone caught the other's attention – as was the intention- and made him look up in bewilderment.

"Eh? Kiku, why—?"

"I am concerned for you, Feliciano-kun. Please pardon my rudeness from before," The personification of Japan murmured with a slight bow.

Feliciano allowed one of his more genuine smiles to appear, his odd curl bouncing in time with his movements as pulled Kiku into a hug.

"Grazie, Kiku~" He hummed, "But I'm fine; I was just thinking about something…"

Even as Kiku spluttered and protested against the physical contact, Feliciano's mind began to drift once more. He trusted Ludwig, he really did, but the Italian also trusted his eyes. He knew what he saw, and the sight had startled him like the sensation of ice water running down his body—paralyzing his limbs and causing him to involuntarily shudder.

 _Why am I still thinking about this?_ Feliciano wondered, _Ludwig will be upset with me if I bring it up again, so why…?_

The wind was suddenly knocked from him as he was shoved back harshly. He barely had time to regain air into his lungs before Kiku began complaining about 'personal space' and how he would have to 'take responsibility' for his actions. Feliciano merely plastered on a dopey grin and apologized.

 _As long as I act like everything is normal, then I shouldn't stress Ludwig out too much,_ he decided.

"Alright, I think we can finally get this meeting started!" New Zealand announced happily.

The representation of North Italy saw this as his cue to take his seat, so he made his way to his spot by the Southern representation, who did little more than scoff at 'the idiotic grin' on his 'shit-bastard face'. Feliciano took none of it personally, since it was just in Lovino's nature to act like a dick—something he often blamed on Spain for one reason or another. Nonetheless, he greeted his brother cheerfully and focused on trying to pay attention to New Zealand.

Everything was just fine.

* * *

Luciano snickered at the sheer stupidity displayed by his counterpart. It would all be far too easy.

"But where's the fun in that?" He sighed. He drummed his fingertips impatiently against the surface of his mahogany desk, staring across the room at a floor-length mirror.

It was brought by Lutz on his request (demand) for the sole purpose of his latest scheme. The reflective surface allowed one to see not only their self, but the alternate world. But it was not a special mirror by any means; one could see the alternate world through any reflective surface. You needed to **see into** , not **look at** , the mirror. It was relatively simple, yet without that certain insight the act could not be done.

Luciano rose from his seat and approached the mirror, staring past his reflection and into the other world. He could see his counterpart fighting to stay awake at a meeting in New Zealand, which drew a dark chuckle past his lips.

"Oh, Feliciano," He purred, placing his hand against the image, "You have no idea what hell awaits you."

* * *

Little else happened throughout the day. Feliciano had to fight even harder to stay awake for the rest of the meeting, because let's face it; full belly+ afternoon+ bored= sleepy time. But he'd promised himself and his friends that he'd focus this time, so that's what he would do!

America's loud, obnoxious voice during his presentation helped, too.

"Ve, I'm beat," Feliciano yawned. He trudged to his hotel room, using a card key when he came to the right door.

The Italian allowed another tired yawn as he kicked off his shoes, deciding not to bother with the lights as he did so. He felt around in the dark for the bed, falling into the sheets clumsily when he stumbled into it. He curled into the sheets, arms wrapping around a pillow and nuzzling into its embrace.

So warm, so soft, gently stroking his hair just the way he liked—

Wait.

Feliciano quickly became aware that he _was not alone in the bed_. Now that he realized it, he could clearly feel the unmistakable frame of a body just behind him. They were pressed snugly to his back, arms wrapping tightly around his middle with their breath ghosting over his neck. It was a loving gesture, yet…sickeningly so. Feliciano couldn't put his finger on it, but the embrace felt wrong and dangerous.

He inwardly began to panic. Who was this? How did they get in? If he called for help, would Ludwig come quickly enough? Well, it didn't have to be Ludwig necessarily…Hell, he'd be happy if _England_ came to help! But what should he do?

Feliciano stiffened when the figure behind him shifted, pressing impossibly closer. He felt them sit up and lean over his still frame, practically pinning him to the bed with their presence alone. He didn't dare open his eyes or breathe. Their face was so close that he could feel each exhale fan across the skin of his face. Feliciano could barely refrain from trembling in fear at the proximity of this stranger.

Something warm and wet trailed across his face then, a tongue. He managed to contain a pathetic whimper as it lapped at a stray tear that escaped from his eye. A hand cupped his cheek, a thumb swiping away the tear gathering at the opposite eye. Fingers stroked through his hair again.

The soothing and sweet gestures were clashing with the overall sinister presence that the Italian felt. It was confusing and at the same time throwing his fight-or-flight instincts into a frenzy. His mind was telling him to run, but his body was calmed by the gentle touches. He couldn't move.

Feliciano wanted to scream.

A finger pressed to his lips, and it wasn't until then that Feliciano realized he _had_ screamed. He forced his eyes open to take in the sight of what he felt to be a monster, only to meet magenta irises.

"Y-You…" He choked, finally allowing himself to shake. The stranger—no his _duplicate_ —grinned down at him.

"Buonanotte, Feliciano~" He cooed.

A pair of lips crashed onto his at the same time a knife slashed his throat open**.

 **AN: Cliffhanger because I'm evil like that.**

 ***I'd like to think that the nations use their human names if they're close. In this case, Japan/Kiku acts informal with Germany/Ludwig and Italy/Feliciano because they are close friends.**

 ****A reference to the famous 'kiss of death', though it's kind of literal in this instance.**

 **Again, I'm not fluent in anything but English, so I tried to stick with words and phrases I already know. If I somehow messed even those up, please let me know. I hope you all enjoyed this and look forward to the next one!**


	4. Chapter 3

**~*Chapter Three*~**

Ludwig jolted awake. His eyes took in his surroundings while his brain worked to figure out why he had chosen that exact moment to step into wakefulness.

"Feliciano," He murmured.

The German could not shake off the feeling that something was wrong, yet he had no idea why. A series of knocks startled him from his musings. He sighed and got up from the hotel bed, quickly answering the door.

"Kiku? What is it?"

"I believe I heard Feliciano-kun scream," The Japanese personification stated simply. That was the only confirmation the German needed.

"Italien!" He exclaimed in concern, dashing into the hallway before Kiku could complain about his 'state of under-dress'.

The Italian's room was only a few doors down, so Ludwig reached it rather quickly. He banged on the door, calling for his friend again. He began to panic when he received no answer.

"Italien! Verdammt, answer me! I'll break down this door—!"

Kiku grabbed hold of the German's arm and tried to pull him away from the door. "Ludwig-san, I don't think it would be wise—"

"Like hell I'll sit here if Feliciano is—"

"You misunderstand—"

"What kind of friend are you—"

"Please listen and let me—"

"Nein! I will not—"

"Ve, what's going on?"

The two nations looked up at the voice and were both relieved to see Feliciano standing in the doorway. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly with a yawn, appearing unharmed.

"Feliciano," Ludwig sighed. "Are you alright…?"

"Hai, I heard you scream," Kiku added.

"I'm fine! I just had a really bad nightmare," Feliciano reassured.

Ludwig felt his concern melt away at the sight of the other's usual dopey grin. He should have known that there was nothing wrong; Feliciano may always get himself into trouble, but it was never anything serious. The Italian must have mistaken his silence for doubt as he added,

"Really, I'm fine! So don't worry so much, Ludwig~"

He then stood on the tips of his toes in an effort to shorten the distance between their heights, reaching up and looping his arms around his neck in a hug that made the German tense. He hesitantly returned the hug, feeling that Feliciano needed reassurance of his own.

"If you're sure…" Ludwig murmured, feeling the other sigh happily.

Kiku smiled at the heart-warming sight between his two friends. The personification of Germany rarely showed his soft side to anyone, so it was nice to see him loosen up every now and again. Feliciano on the other hand…well, he was always affectionate, sometimes a bit too much so. _I'm glad that Feliciano-kun is…doing just…fine…_

Kiku found his thoughts trailing off, his gaze narrowing in on the grin on the Italian's face.

It didn't fit.

* * *

England opened his eyes with a gasp, clutching at his chest where his heart pounded wildly. His gaze flickered around the dim hotel room, taking in his surroundings and reminding himself of where he was before calming down.

"…Just a dream."

As he said this, however, the last tendrils of the dream had dissipated from his mind completely, leaving him to wonder what it was that had frightened him. He glanced at the clock at his side, groaning at the far-too-early time it read.

 _Might as well get up now,_ he decided with a defeated sigh.

Despite his earlier reluctance, the British representation came to appreciate the fact that he could enjoy a warm cup of tea so early in the day without any interruptions. It would do him some good to try to relax before the day's meeting anyway. He'd have to deal with a bunch of morons all day—

 ** _BAM!_** "G'Morning, Artie!"

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Arthur muttered into his tea. America paused in the remains of the doorway, a look of confusion on his otherwise cheerful face.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," He grumbled tiredly in reply, "What do you want, git?"

"Just checking to see if you wanted to walk with me to the meeting~" The other chirped. Arthur sighed; Alfred must have just had a gallon of coffee to be exuding that much energy so early in the day.

"Fine. Just let me finish my—"

"No time, old man!" Alfred interrupted, pulling the other to his feet and dragging him into the hallway, laughing the whole time.

"YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!"

He didn't even get to finish his tea…!

* * *

Soon enough, Arthur found himself at his designated seat. He was placed between New Zealand (the head of the meeting this time around) and America (for some reason or another, though the git probably had something to do with it), though neither were seated at the moment.

Toby*, bless his heart, was dealing with a raging Jett*, the latter unable to bring his koala into the conference room, and Alfred was, well…Alfred. The American was obviously causing a disturbance in some way or another, no doubt. Regardless, Arthur was grateful that not too many nations had showed up yet. Especially that damn frog…

A sudden chill rocketed up his spine just as a wave of nausea wracked his body, the reaction leaving him sick and breathless as he doubled over in pain. He gripped a hand to his chest, the feeling reminiscent to this morning, though this time his heart refused to calm itself. Arthur glanced about the room wildly, trying to determine the cause, and his gaze immediately shot to Russia.

 _No…it's not him,_ he thought to himself. The Russian merely smiled and waved when he caught the other looking at him.

"Ciao, everyone!"

Arthur tore his eyes from Russia and stared in confusion as Italy bounced into the room, followed by Germany and Japan. That was when he saw it.

A dark aura had entered the conference room…and it was attached to Italy.

No, attached was an understatement; it _enveloped_ him. It was another one of those times where Arthur wished that there were more people that could see the same things that he could. As luck would have it, there were only two other nations he knew of that could: Romania and Norway. The former's presence wasn't mandatory for this particular meeting, so he had opted not to attend. Norway, on the other hand, was present, though had yet to arrive.

It was at that exact moment that Italy looked right at him. Eyes that were usually closed and hidden from the rest of the world were open and staring at him with burning intensity. But what was really out of place was the smile. It was as if Russia and Italy had traded faces, for God's sake!

"Ve, ciao, Britain~"

Arthur nearly fell out of his seat at the sudden close proximity of Italy, who he could swear was just on the other side of the room.

"O-Oh, good morning!" He greeted politely, albeit a bit nervously. Damn, he was having a hard time getting himself to calm down. If only he'd finished his tea…

"You don't look so good!" Italy fretted, leaning closer. "Maybe you need to sleep…Arthur."

If Arthur wasn't frightened before, he certainly was now. The breath ghosting over his ear was positively freezing and Italy's mere presence was threatening his sanity.

"H-How do you know my name…?" He managed to choke out. The given human name of a nation wasn't typically known among others, and he'd certainly never given Italy that knowledge*.

Italy chuckled, the sound eerily dark. "I know many things, Arthur. That is all you need to know~"

"…"

"Listen," Something sharp prodded his side, just enough pressure to avoid breaking the skin, "Keep your suspicions to yourself. Don't say a word of this to anyone."

"I—" He broke off with a sharp hiss, the knife having made a small cut against the exposed skin of his wrist.

"Do I make myself clear, Arthur?" That dark voice purred. Arthur nodded, unable to do much else.

"Bene. In that case…see you around, Britain!"

And then he was gone, the idiotic mask back in place as he skipped happily to his designated seat. Arthur exhaled shakily, forcing his body to stop trembling. His gaze flickered to the blood dripping down his fingers, wincing at the thought of the red stains on his sleeve.

"Best go clean this up," He muttered to himself.

* * *

Norway was having a bad morning.

First off, he woke up late. This led to skipping breakfast after a hasty shower, though he wasn't so hungry, which brought forth the second reason: he felt sick. His head hurt something fierce, feeling as though someone shoved a sword through his skull _repeatedly_ , and his stomach churned unpleasantly at the mere thought of food. The third reason, well…

"C'mon, Luke!"

Yes, that. "Shut up, moron," Lukas hissed, throwing the nearest object—a coffee mug—at the annoying Dane. The other dodged neatly, chuckling in amusement until a potted plant caught him square in the face.

"Damn," Denmark groaned, rubbing at his head, "Can you _not_ throw the fern next time?"

"No. Now, let's get this meeting over with before I _really_ lose it."

Not wanting to invoke the Norwegian's wrath any further, Mathias* ceased his antics and followed his moody companion to the conference room. The two walked in (blissful) silence for a bit until Lukas sighed impatiently,

"Hurry up and say what's on your mind. I can practically hear you thinking."

Mathias blinked. "Ah, right. Just wondering if you're feeling alright this morning. I mean, if you're feeling bad you should just go rest!"

Lukas appreciated the Dane's concern and took into account his unusual show of consideration—though he wouldn't say any of this aloud for fear of inflating the other's ego. However, he merely shook his head, knowing that Mathias couldn't possibly understand what was ailing him.

"I'll be fine. Thanks for the concern, though."

"…You know, there are still times when I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not."

"And now you've ruined what could have been a touching moment," Lukas muttered, "Whatever. Let's go, we're late enough as it is."

The two Nordics were among the last few Nations to arrive, causing Germany to reprimand them for their tardiness. Lukas felt his head throb painfully as he settled into his seat, expression slightly darker than his usual mask of indifference. Something twisted uncomfortably in the back of his mind, a sense of foreboding gnawing at his subconscious. His dull, indigo eyes scanned the room for anything out of place, knowing that he would be one of the only occupants able to see it.

He could tell at a glance that England felt it, too, their eyes meeting briefly in acknowledgement. It was then that a dark shadow appeared in his peripheral vision. Lukas shifted in his seat, turning slightly to better focus his sight. However, looking in that general direction, he saw nothing. The only thing in that line of sight was one of the Italians, the cheerful one if Lukas remembered correctly. Italy Veneziano caught his gaze, staring a moment before breaking into a broad grin and waving.

Lukas nodded politely before facing forward once more, still unable to shake the feeling that he had missed something.

 **AN: Yep, I'm still here. Sorry for the delay, I had gotten lost on the road of Life ^^**

 ***Toby=New Zealand. I didn't find an official name, so I used one of the fan names.**

 ****Jett=Australia. Again, no official name.**

 *****Headcanon that Nations keep their human names from each other and only share them with those close to them.**

 ******Mathias=Denmark. A name I see often enough, so I used it too.**


	5. Chapter 4

**~*Chapter Four*~**

Feliciano blinked his eyes open, taking in a shaky breath. He coughed, his throat feeling raw and sore. His eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness of the dimly lit room, darting about and taking in the surroundings. _Ve, was it all a bad dream?_ He winced as he sat up, his body stiff. How long had he been asleep?

He then realized that there were two voices arguing just outside his door. Recognizing them immediately, Feliciano all but leapt out of bed and scrambled to greet his friends. They could chase the bad dreams away for sure! He flung open the door with energy he had lacked moments before, exclaiming,

"Ludwig! Kiku! I had this really scary dream that—"

The two looked up from their bickering, fixing stony gazes on him. Feliciano felt his chest constrict in an unpleasant way as he stared back at them. The feeling was reminiscent of his dream…or was it even a dream at all? All the Italian knew at that moment was that the two figures standing before him were definitely _not_ his friends.

"Finally up, I see."

Feliciano's frightened gaze snapped up to Ludwig—or, rather, the person that greatly resembled his friend. His eyes were closer to purple than blue, and there was a scar across his cheek that Ludwig did not have. The other figure appeared much like Kiku, except his eyes were red and he openly scowled.

"Wh-Who are you?" Feliciano squeaked, beginning to tremble.

Dread prickled down his spine like ice as he recalled every detail of his dream, which hadn't been a dream and had actually happened. Someone had snuck into his hotel room and _killed_ him. Not only that, but they looked just like him, minus a few differences. Ah, so that was why he had been so sore earlier; his body must have been recovering from recent regeneration*.

"You may have noticed that things are different, but that is completely normal," The Ludwig imposter spoke, "However, all we ask is that you cooperate."

"Meaning shut up and listen," The Japan look-alike added bluntly. Feliciano gulped and nodded, nervously waiting for an explanation.

"You realize that you died, wahr? Und that you are in a different place? That is because you regenerated in the world that is parallel to your own. Just as Luciano predicted…" The German finished off-handedly.

"Parallel world…? Wait! Why did this happen to me? I want to go home!" Feliciano cried. The tip of a sword was suddenly at his throat, pressing lightly so as not to draw blood, yet hard enough to feel threatening.

"Shut. Up," The Japan imposter hissed with narrowed eyes. Feliciano could do little more than tremble and whine pathetically. Satisfied with the reaction, the Japanese male took the sword away and sheathed it.

"Anyway," The German continued, "You will remain here for the time being. You are not to question Luciano's motives, nor will you be without some form of supervision. Understood?"

"S-Si," The Italian squeaked. "But…who is Luciano?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The Japanese male smirked, "He is **you**."

* * *

Luciano found the meeting to be incredibly entertaining.

It was a refreshing change to see the Nations actively opposing one another, teasing, taunting, and overall just stirring up shit. At the conferences back home, it was all seriousness and cowardice and order. Boring as hell. Currently, however, New Zealand was trying in vain to bring the meeting back into order with Germany appearing to be mere seconds away from doing so himself. The man looked ready to strangle somebody.

 _I like this place better already_ , Luciano noted with amusement _._ _ **My**_ _Germany would never be so audacious_. It was a shame, really, that Lutz had become submissive so quickly…

"—and stay away from my brother, you German potato-bastard!" Italy Romano swore angrily, flipping Germany off in the process. Lovino and Ludwig, Luciano recalled.

"What is your problem with me?" Ludwig sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in obvious resignation.

Ignoring the growing conflict between his "brother" and "friend", Luciano glanced about for something else to focus on. From what he had gathered, Italy Veneziano was a pasta-loving airhead that contributed little to meetings anyway, so he could get away with some things. He hardly enjoyed playing the fool, but that was beyond his control; he needed to blend in for a while to avoid suspicion. He already had Arthur to consider, after all, as he is one of the few Nations attuned to "supernatural" things. Openly threatening him was a bold move on Luciano's part, yet he could always act on it should the Englishman prove detrimental to his plans. That usually made it alright in the end.

Speaking of Arthur…Luciano noticed that the blond wasn't participating as much in the discussions or arguments. His gaze was unfocused, as though lost in thought. The Italian grinned; he couldn't let Arthur think too much, now could he? He slipped away from his seat and over to the Englishman in a few, quick strides.

"Hey, Arthur~" He cooed into the other's ear. Arthur visibly jolted, obviously taken by surprise at Luciano's sudden appearance. "What are you thinking about, hm?"

"O-Oh, hello…Italy. It's nothing, really!" Arthur laughed nervously, waving off the question.

"Is that so? Well, I hope you remember what we talked about earlier!"

"Yes, well—"

"What about earlier?" Another voice interrupted. Both glanced up in mild surprise, neither having noticed America's approach. He looked between them with curiosity, ignorant eyes taking in the scene.

"Ve, just talking about pasta, right _Britain?"_ Luciano hummed, shooting a meaningful glance to Arthur.

"Ah," Arthur hesitated, eyes flickering between his former colony and "Italy Veneziano". He then noticed that the knife made a reappearance in the Italian's hand, the blade frighteningly close to America, whom was unaware of the threat looming behind him.

"Britain?"

"Ah, yes. Just casual small talk, nothing to speak of," Arthur finally replied. The knife was sheathed and hidden once more.

"Really? Lame. Thought you guys would have something more interesting to talk about," America remarked disappointedly.

"Well, no one asked you to come over here, you git!"

America only laughed in reply and sauntered off in the general direction of his assigned seat, finally out of earshot once again. Luciano shot Arthur a pleased grin, moving to return to his own seat.

"That was a smart move on your part. However," He paused, glancing back at the Englishman, "Hesitation in the future may just cost someone's life."

* * *

Lukas stifled a yawn and stretched his arms, most of his muscles tense from hours of inactivity. Despite the typical 'liveliness' expected of a meeting, he himself hardly participated. The only times he would intervene would be when Berwald couldn't contain Mathias on his own (which would actually be due to the two of them fighting, hence Lukas and Tino being the ones to step in). This meeting was no different, so the nation of Norway allowed himself to contemplate the odd occurrences as of late.

Throughout the meeting, Lukas was unable to identify the odd presence he had sensed previously. It always rested just on the edge of his vision, never fully in view. And when he thought he had caught sight of it that damn Italy Veneziano would be in the way. Perhaps the Italian's stupidity scared it off? Whatever the case, Lukas had no luck.

This is why he had to resort to asking England. England, he knew, was able to see the same things that he could, perhaps more. Naturally attuned to magic himself, Lukas was certain that England could should some light on the situation. And if not, the two of them could contact Romania and the three of them could find an answer together.

"Just like old times," He murmured to himself*.

Lukas strode down the hotel corridor, having not the faintest idea as to where England was rooming. He couldn't ask the front desk because of their privacy policy, and he wasn't sure if any of the other nations knew either. His best bet was to simply wander until he found a trace of the Englishman.

"Norge!"

"Oh, God, why?"

"Where ya off to? You left the meeting pretty fast," Mathias continued, undeterred by the negative reaction.

"None of your business. Now, leave me alone," Lukas hissed, thoroughly annoyed by the other's presence. He was frustrated enough with being unable to find England, but his head was still killing him and then _this_ one decides to show up.

"Why so hostile? Are you still feeling bad? I could—"

"You wouldn't understand, Mathias," Lukas snapped coldly, "You're not the one I need to speak to right now."

Lukas did not intend for his words to come across so harshly, but he could see that it was too late; the hurt flashed briefly in Mathias's eyes before disappearing.

"I…see."

"Mathias, I didn't—"

"He's at the hotel's bar," He said abruptly, "If you're looking for England, that is."

"…"

Mathias turned on his heel, away from the other. "Tell him that I won't be joining him tonight."

And then he was gone.

* * *

Arthur was incredibly shaken by the end of the day. He had been threatened by _Italy_ of all people not once, but _twice_. Not only that, but Alfred seemed to be in danger as well. What was he to do? He couldn't exactly tell anyone, as a certain Italian made it painfully clear that he was not to do so. Yet if he didn't, who knows what Italy could do? The bloke didn't seem like his usual idiotic self, and Arthur was the only one to notice. There was definitely something wrong, but was he willing to jeopardize his and possibly Alfred's lives in order to find out what?

"Forget tea, I need a bevvy*," Arthur groaned, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

That was why he agreed on visiting the hotel's bar with Denmark. Usually they'd have Prussia there as well, but the albino was not present at this meeting*. Imagine his surprise to find not Denmark, but _Norway_ waiting for him at the bar.

"Denmark wasn't up for drinking," Norway stated simply.

"…I don't suppose you're here for a drink?"

"No," He sighed, fiddling with the clip in his hair. "I wanted to talk to you about the malicious presence in our midst.

Arthur mentally cursed himself for not thinking about Norway sooner. But did that mean Italy was on to the Nordic as well? It would prove beneficial if he wasn't, as Arthur could safely keep tabs on him without drawing suspicion.

And Alfred wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.

"Norway," Arthur began, "I need you to listen carefully…"

 **AN: Another one done! So, any comments, predictions? Also, if you haven't noticed, I am trying to keep the pairings discreet...for now. Depending on how the story goes, I _might_ make them a bit more obvious, but don't count on it.**

 ***Regeneration. Headcanon that the Nations don't necessarily die from mortal wounds (even from another Nation) and revive/heal quickly.**

 ****Reference to the Magic Trio: Romania, England, and Norway.**

 *****Reference to the Bad Brothers/Drunk Trio: Prussia, England, and Denmark.**

 ******Bevvy. British slang for an alcoholic beverage.**


	6. Chapter 5

**~*Chapter Five*~**

 _"_ _He is_ _ **you**_ _."_

Left alone once more, Feliciano stared up at the cracked, tile ceiling. The words of Kuro, Japan's counterpart, rang through his mind endlessly. He still did not understand his situation all that well, but what he did know was this:

He could not go home.

Lutz, the German alternate, had told him so. He was not allowed to know how or why he was here either. All he was told was that this was a world parallel to his own, and that his alternate was known as Luciano. The very same person that had snuck into his room and slit his throat (Feliciano subconsciously rubbed at the healed flesh of his neck) and was parading around _his_ world posed as _him_.

It scared Feliciano to think that a monster with his face could possibly hurt his friends and loved ones, and it frustrated him knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

The formerly bubbly Italian rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into the cheap fabric of the mattress he rested upon. Not for the first time since the ordeal began, Feliciano cried. He sobbed like a child separated from his parent, feeling hopeless and terrified. There was no telling what these 'Parallel' Nations could do, let alone what they had planned. He remained that way until the sheets beneath him were soaked with tears and when breathing became difficult. Feliciano hiccupped, but finally sat up and wiped at his eyes.

"What would Ludwig and Kiku do," He thought aloud, "if they were in my place?"

Feliciano pondered this for a bit. He smiled, thinking that his two friends would find a way out, no matter how difficult.

"Now I'm the one that has to be brave. I'm the only one that knows about Luciano back home, so I have to be the one to stop him," He realized. The thought was terrifying, but he steeled his resolve. If he made it through the Great Wars (sort of), then he could surely get through this, right?

With that in mind, the Italian rose from his spot on the bed and gingerly made his way to the door. However, he caught movement in the corner of his eye. He glanced over and felt fear curl itself around his heart as he saw the mirror and the reflection that stared back at him.

It was Luciano.

* * *

"Ah, home at last~" The Italian sighed blissfully. He found himself in the city of Rome as soon as the meetings ended the day before.

It was quite different from his own place.

For one, there were no corpses littering the street or a building engulfed in flames along every other block. Then the people were well-fed and happy, greeting each other cheerfully on the streets as though they had known one another their whole lives. Vermin and pests did not run rampant throughout the streets, nor were the water sources contaminated and harmful. Everything here was beautiful and so very full of life and culture.

Once he was sure that he was alone in his alternate's house, he dropped the dopey grin and attitude in favor of a scowl. He kicked off his boots, not caring where they landed (though he did hear the resounding crash of a vase) and stormed into what appeared to be an office. It seemed to mirror his own personal workspace back home, though it had several differences that reflected Feliciano's personality. Luciano settled at the relatively clean work desk (void of all paperwork, he noticed) with a sigh, kicking his feet up onto the surface and leaning back into the chair.

"Ah, who knew that playing the idiot could be so exhausting?" He said aloud to no one in particular.

No one asides from Arthur seemed to suspect a thing. This was good, yet Luciano knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped and did something very un-Feliciano-like. Like killing someone or maiming them beyond recognition.

"Thought I might find you in here, you piece of crapola!"

Luciano blinked lazily and turned to face the newcomer, Italy Romano, or, rather, his "brother" Lovino. He had reached for his knife out of reflex, but remembered who he was supposed to be and passed off the movement as an innocent wave.

"Ciao, fratello!" He pitched his voice, morphing his face into one of utmost cheerfulness, "Can I get you anything?"

"Tch," Lovino scoffed, "You're always so damn clueless. Don't you know what today is, you idiota?"

Luciano wracked his brain for anything remotely useful before opting for what he considered a typical response of his alternate:

"National Pasta Day?"*

"No! Today is fucking Friday, so the two of us are meeting up with stupid Spain to go to some stupid place before we finally get to fucking eat. Now, are you ready or do I have to drag your sorry ass all the way over there?"

"…I'm ready, fratello!"

"Good. Let's go, I'm fucking starving."

As Luciano followed his "brother", he couldn't help but feel glad that there was at least one person he could get along with. This thought was further solidified when Spain, or, rather, _Antonio_ joined the two of them in the Piazza Navona.

"¡Hola, mi cariño! Nice to see you too, Feliciano!"

"Chigi! Don't say that so loud, bastard!" Lovino shrieked, batting at Antonio's arms while the other laughed good-naturedly.

The Spaniard was _far_ too cheerful and kind for Luciano's liking.

While the three of them walked the streets of Rome, the idiot would constantly greet passersby with _a wave and a fucking smile_ , which prompted Luciano to do the same because Feliciano would have been doing the same thing. It was exhausting, to say the least.

Antonio is the kind of man that wouldn't last long back home.

However, despite the overwhelming headache building due to being too damn nice to everyone, Luciano found that the trip was…

Nice.

He got along well with Lovino, who was quite unlike his own flamboyant ass of a brother. Once he got used to the lack of blood and death, the scenery was quite nice as well. Luciano felt an odd thud in his chest and automatically gripped the area over his heart. The feeling was…warm. Was this what contentment felt like?

"Something wrong, Feli?" Antonio asked, head tipped in question and eyes full of concern.

"Nope!" Luciano lied quickly, wearing the dopey grin like a second skin.

No. He wouldn't allow himself to grow weak. He couldn't afford it.

It wasn't a part of the plan, after all.

* * *

"This isn't good at all," Lukas muttered.

"But you understand my situation, don't you?" England pressed.

Lukas contemplated all that England had told him. The malicious presence he had sensed earlier, the cause of his uneasy feelings, the only thing he overlooked, was Italy Veneziano. He cursed himself for not putting two and two together sooner.

"Unfortunately," He acknowledged. "But what should I do about it?"

"I need you to keep a close eye on Italy Veneziano, obviously, as I am unable to do so without my or anyone else's existence being threatened."

Lukas nodded slowly in agreement even as he pondered the risks involved. The cause of Italy's odd behavior could be a number of things, all ranging from a demonic possession to mind-manipulation magic. All the possibilities included an overlay of danger to whoever was involved, so he had to be absolutely careful. If Italy discovered that he was onto him…

No, that shouldn't even be a thought.

"Norway?" Lukas snapped out of his thoughts, quickly locking his gaze with England's.

"Don't worry; I've got this covered."

Whether he said so to reassure England or himself, he wasn't quite sure.

* * *

Kiku had felt that something was off since the previous night.

He sat through the meeting trying to ignore the fact, but every single time he so much as glanced at Feliciano-kun…

No. That person was not the friend he had come to know.

However, there was nothing he could do to prove that he was right aside from asking others if they felt the same way. As far as he could tell, though, no one else seemed to suspect a thing. The situation, he knew, was not a favorable one, but there was still one more person he could convince.

Upon returning home from the meeting, Kiku was struck with the realization that, should Ludwig-san be unaware of the danger, he needed to be warned _immediately_. He quickly placed his luggage aside and fumbled for his phone and dialed the familiar number.

…

 _"_ _Ja, this is Ludwig."_

"Hello, I hope this is not an inconvenient time for you, Ludwig-san," Kiku said apologetically.

 _"_ _Nein, but…we did not see each other all too long ago,"_ The German replied in bemusement.

"Hai, I know, but there is something I need to ask you. Before I do that, though…Are you alone?"

There was a pause on the other end, but after a moment's silence, _"Ja. Bruder is in his room. What's wrong?"_

"I believe that Feliciano-kun is not himself, or, rather, that the person you _think_ is Feliciano-kun—"

 _"_ _Oh, I see what this is."_

"That is such a relief. You see—"

 _"_ _You and Italien are playing some kind of joke on me, aren't you? Well, I don't have the tolerance for such foolishness!"_

"Wait, Ludwig-san—"

 _"_ _Nein! With Feliciano's "hallucinations" and your phone call, I've just about had it!"_

"…"

A tired sigh from the other end. _"Please, Japan, call me in all serious next time."_

Click.

Kiku stared in disbelief at the phone as the call ended, wondering if he had somehow said something offensive.

 **Um, hello. I actually don't have a good excuse as to why it took so long to get this out, but there is good news! I have the story planned out to about chapter 10, so it's only a matter of typing it. It's a real change because I usually don't plan out my fics; I just go with the flow and wing it most of the time after getting an idea. Anyways, I intend to get back to updating every two weeks, at least, so I appreciate your patience, you guys! Reviews are love~**

 ***National Pasta Day is October 17.**


	7. Chapter 6

**~*Chapter Six*~**

 _It was Luciano._

Feliciano shrieked and cowered, quickly diving to the ground with his hands clasped over his head.

"Wah! I'm sorry! I wasn't going to do anything, I swear! Please don't kill me!" He cried.

He sobbed and trembled for a good couple minutes before he realized that no one had killed him yet. Feeling hope flutter in his chest, Feliciano carefully peered up from his crouched position on the ground. He stood up slowly and glanced around his surroundings a few time before stepping forward. No one appeared until he passed by the mirror again. Feliciano gasped and shrieked again, but realized this time around that Luciano wasn't doing anything.

Upon closer inspection, the Italian gathered that it wasn't Luciano in the mirror, but _himself_. His reflection had hair that was a shade or so darker than usual, magenta irises and slightly tanned skin*. If anything, he _was_ Luciano. Was this what Kuro meant?

 _"_ _He is_ _ **you**_ _."_

Well, this was interesting. But then, wouldn't that mean that Luciano looked exactly like him right now…?

"Oh, no!" Feliciano wailed, "This is even worse! No one will be able to tell that Luciano isn't me! We're more identical than America and the guy that looks like America!"

A door slammed open then, and, in his moment of hysteria, Feliciano cried louder. A hand wrapped around his throat and lifted him into the air, quickly turning his sobs into chokes of fear and pain. He managed to open his tear-blurred eyes enough to look down into Kuro's displeased expression.

"Quiet," He hissed coldly, tightening his grip meaningfully. Feliciano only coughed and scrabbled at the hand strangling him.

"Kuro. That's enough."

Feliciano was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, hitting it with a loud _thud_. He gasped and fought to regain air into his lungs, feeling the burn in his chest and throat at the effort. Somehow the pain managed to fade, a least a little, and he was able to glance up gratefully at Lutz.

"Thank—"

"We have strict orders to keep you imprisoned but alive," Lutz interrupted, "So think nothing of it."

Feliciano deflated a bit. "Oh."

"On that note, we have further orders. You are to remain in this building, contact no one, and stay silent while we attend matters elsewhere," Lutz added.

"Y-You're both leaving?"

"Don't get ideas," Kuro warned with narrowed eyes. The door slammed shut behind them, but there wasn't the _click_ of a lock.

Feliciano was left alone once again. Sure, the alternates were scary, but at least they made sure he wasn't alone! Now what was he going to do?

"I guess I should look around a bit…They didn't say that I couldn't leave the _room_ ," Feliciano said to himself.

With that in mind, he left the room in favor of exploring the rest of the place. The first thing he noticed was that the building was structured just like his home in Rome. The second was that everything was extremely different. The décor was the exact opposite of what he had back home; things that were bright and colorful at his house were dark and depressing here. For example, in the main hall he had a beautiful painting of a woman amongst a field of flowers. Here, it was replaced by a woman burning at the stake. Moving forward, he easily navigated the semi-familiar halls and glanced in each room. He compared everything he saw to things at home, finding them similar in some twisted way.

It would have been comforting had everything not been so eerie.

"Just one more door," Feliciano murmured to himself.

He'd saved this room for last—it was the equivalent of his bedroom back home. Minus the color scheme and lack of "personal" touches, it looked just like the room he knew. Feliciano stepped over the door's threshold and entered the room, taking in the dark atmosphere.

"Dreary, isn't it, poppet?"

"Yeah, I guess it—"

Feliciano stopped. He'd started to respond out of reflex, but…wasn't he supposed to be alone? Ever so slowly, he turned his head, the motion slightly jerky due to fear, and glanced back. There was nothing. Heaving a sigh of relief, he turned back around to continue studying the room. However, he found himself nose-to-nose with another person.

"Hello~!"

Feliciano fainted.

* * *

Luciano knew that he'd been dragging things out for far too long.

That is precisely why he decided to begin the next phase of his plan as soon as night fell once more. In the meanwhile he had played nice with Antonio, the cheery idiot, and enjoyed Lovino's sour attitude until the Spaniard left and he was alone. Well, that was what he'd had in mind, but Lovino stuck around. He cursed the fact that Lovino had decided he was too tired to go back to his own place, his "brother" currently sleeping in one of the "shitty guest rooms". That wouldn't deter him from acting, however; he just needed to be careful.

And quiet. Definitely quiet.

With this in mind, Luciano locked the bedroom door and stood before the floor-length mirror. He gazed past the glass surface and brought up the image he was searching for.

"Ah, nice to see the two of you again."

* * *

Feliciano found himself waking up once again.

He was lying on a bed, staring up at a dark ceiling… but he wasn't alone. No, he could hear someone's cheerful humming somewhere close by. He sat up, glancing around until he found the source of the noise. Whoever this person was, they hadn't hurt him, so they must be friendly.

Right?

"Oh, you're awake!"

Time to find out.

"U-Um, who are you?" Feliciano asked cautiously. The stranger looked up with wide, baby blue eyes, a large grin on his face.

"Call me Oliver, poppet~"

Aside from the hair, which was strawberry blonde in color, and the eyes, Oliver greatly resembled…

"E-England?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, that's my other name, dearie, but I'm not the England you know~"

Feliciano was thoroughly disturbed. He now realized why England scowled more often than he smiled; it was so scary! Oliver didn't seem to notice his discomfort and carried on with his humming. It took a while, but Feliciano finally mustered up enough courage to attempt conversation.

"S-So, Oliver—"

"Call me Ollie~" The cheery Brit interrupted, tapping the other's nose with a little 'boop'.

"…Ollie. U-Um, what are you doing here?" Feliciano continued, eyeing the other a bit nervously.

It took a moment for Oliver to consider the question, but he finally replied, smiling widely, "Why, to help you, poppet!"

"H-Huh? You…want to help me?" Feliciano asked incredulously.

So far, the alternates had seemed like scary and violent people that only wanted to harm him, yet here was one offering to do _help_ him. Well, he figured that since everything was opposite, this England had to be the friendliest which meant he could trust him. Right?

"Well of course, dearie! Who wouldn't want to help such a sweet face~?" Oliver cooed, cupping his hands to Feliciano's face, turning it this way and that while squishing the flesh (a gesture that Feliciano thought only grandmothers did).

"Shou woo ont hurf mweh?"

"Of course I won't hurt you, darling," Oliver replied, somehow having understood the garbled question, "That would be the opposite of helping!"

Oliver finally let go of Feliciano's face, giving one final pat to his head before drawing back. "Are you hungry?"

Feliciano thought for a moment before nodding. Since the England back home was a terrible cook, then this England must be a great one! Oliver grinned happily at his answer and eagerly led the way to the kitchen, chattering about his latest cupcake recipe.

While waiting for the cupcakes to bake, Feliciano found himself sitting with the British alternate at the dark, ornate wood table placed in the dining room. He still had so many questions, but he wasn't sure how to go about asking them. Back home, he had no problem blurting whatever was on his mind to Ludwig and Kiku. Here, however, he felt the need to be cautious since things appeared quite unpredictable. He rubbed at his neck, remembering how Kuro had just about strangled him earlier.

"That looks rather painful."

"Huh?"

"Your neck, poppet. Rather nasty bruises on it."

Feliciano's eyes widened. He jumped out of his chair and ran to the nearest mirror—the one placed in the hall near the dreadful painting—and gazed at his reflection. He still looked like Luciano, but with the addition of a red-violet bruise blooming around his neck. It was roughly the shape of a single hand, wrapping around his throat in its blotchy discoloration.

"W-Why…Why hasn't it healed yet…?" Feliciano whispered in disbelief.

As a Nation, his wounds healed rather quickly. The most serious of wounds were likely to disappear almost completely within a week, though not without some minor scarring. Something like a bruise, however, healed almost instantly; they were around no longer than an hour whereas it took days for humans. In the current moment, though, Feliciano could tell that the bruise on his neck hadn't even begun to heal.

"Something wrong, dearie?" Oliver asked tentatively, head cocked to the side.

"I'm…not healing…"

"Oh. So you've noticed now."

Feliciano's head snapped up, "W-What? Do you know something about this?"

"Though I am different than your England, I am also well-versed in magic. So of course I know about how you got here, as well as the consequences!" Oliver explained casually.

"W-What does that mean for me?"

"Let me explain, poppet. You regenerated here, yes?"

"Yeah, but I healed then! How come—"

"Shh," A finger pressed to his lips, "Don't interrupt again, darling. It's quite rude. Anyway, you may have healed then, but that was the leftover magic you carried with you from your world fixing your injuries.

"Our worlds are full of magic, though most don't realize it. See, it's the magic that resides in our bodies that allows us to recuperate so quickly. Of course, after intense recovery, lots of magical energy is consumed so it needs to be restored. This is done subconsciously while relaxing in your capital, where the supply of magic is nearly limitless so long as your people are thriving within your heart.

"Since this Rome is not your own, you are unable to harness your body's fast healing ability. This means that, while you are here, you will recover at the rate typical of a human. Now, try to think about what would happen if you sustained a serious injury."

After the explanation, Feliciano still found himself a bit confused. All the talk of magic was something he didn't quite understand. However, he did comprehend the fact that his recovery rate dropped to that of a regular human. Which also meant…

"If I die here…I won't come back."

 **AN: I am so sorry for the delay. I had this written for a while, but I wanted to wait until I wrote the next chapter to post. It took so long because I wound up moving to another _state_ and things have just been so hard to deal with lately. It's finally summer, though, so I have a bit of a break. I won't abandon the story, but hopefully I won't take forever to get the next chapters out.**

 **Excuses aside, how did you guys like Oliver? I hope I'm doing him justice since he's one of my favorite 2p! characters XD**

 ***Basically, Feliciano took on Luciano's appearance and vice versa since they had switched places.**


	8. Chapter 7

**~*Chapter Seven*~**

"If I die here…I won't come back."

Feliciano had never considered such a grim possibility when he had first awakened in the parallel world, but now it seemed all too real and scary. He looked to Oliver helplessly, the other sparing him an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry, poppet, but there is good news!"

"G-Good news…?"

"Yes! I told you that I'm here to help you, didn't I? Well, I meant it; I'll help get you home, safe and sound!" Oliver consoled with a bright grin.

"Promise me?"

"Hm?"

"Promise that I won't get hurt again? And that I'll get home?" Feliciano pleaded, looking up with a hopeful gaze. Oliver's cheery smile faded into a more solemn expression, his own eyes softening.

"I, Oliver Kirkland, promise that you, Feliciano Vargas, will not come into further harm and that I will do everything in my power to return things to how they should be, so long as I can help it," He vowed, holding the other's hands in his own, a faint warmth present in his fingertips.

Feliciano didn't quite understand the extent of Oliver's promise, but he understood that it was very serious and that the odd blonde meant every word.

* * *

Kiku was frustrated.

Ludwig-san wouldn't take his calls after the previous incident, and the Japanese personification had yet to understand the issue. He was certain that there was a reason behind the other's anger, though whether or not he was the cause was still in question. He sighed.

"I am normally adept at sensing the mood and refraining from speaking," He muttered, "but this is one of the times that it does nothing for me to refrain from acting."

He understood that standing around worrying was getting him nowhere, but his nerves were fraught with concern and wouldn't be calmed until Ludwig-san just picked up his accursed phone—

Kiku flinched as his phone vibrated with an incoming call, but felt himself sag with relief when he saw that it was the exact person he wanted to speak to.

"Ludwig-san, thank goodness!" He answered, "I was beginning to think that you were ignoring me…"

 _"_ _Nein, I was just busy for a while, though I was appalled at your earlier actions. I apologize if I worried you, Kiku."_

"No, it's fine. I want to apologize as well, (though I don't know what it is that I did)."

 _"_ _Alright. Well, Kiku,"_ The other began awkwardly, _"I was wondering if you would like to join me for lunch? I know we recently saw each other at the last meeting, but I feel that there are matters to be discussed…"_

"Ah, that sounds perfectly fine," Kiku agreed. Now he'd finally have the chance to warn Ludwig-san properly.

 _"_ _That's wunderbar! It wouldn't be the same without you, Kiku. Feliciano is already excited to see you again."_

Kiku's heart dropped to his stomach.

"F-Feliciano-kun?"

 _"_ _Ja. He called earlier and said he would meet me at my place, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you came, too."_

"O-Oh, that's nice," Kiku replied, swallowing back a wave of panic. Feliciano-kun was the reason that he needed to speak to Ludwig-san in the first place!

 _"_ _I'll see you soon, then."_

The call disconnected.

Kiku sighed, putting his phone aside. "There is no helping it. It appears as though I have to address the problem directly."

Expression slightly grim, Kiku made his way to the door. For some reason that he could not explain, the concept of travel applied differently to the nation personifications*. Despite their homes being in completely different countries, the travel time was comparable to walking down the street to a friend's house. America had once asked about the strange concept at a meeting, though it was promptly dismissed once England tried to explain that the phenomena was caused by magic.

In any case, Kiku found himself at Ludwig-san's front door in record time. Gathering his thoughts, he knocked on the wooden surface and waited somewhat impatiently. To his surprise, Prussia answered the door.

"Kesesese! How's it been, Kiku?" He cackled upon seeing the other's startled expression.

"Oh, hello, Gilbert-san. Is Ludwig-san not here?"

"Nah, he is," The albino replied with a wave of his hand. "He told me to tell you to wait in the living area while he wraps up some paperwork. Oh, and Feli's already waiting inside for you."

Feliciano-kun beat him here. Wonderful.

"Thank you, Gilbert-san."

Gilbert-san led him to the living room, gesturing for him to take a seat in any of the chairs or sofas before leaving with a claim that he had "awesome things to do". Already seated in one of the chairs was Feliciano-kun, cheerful smile seeming forced and far too fake.

"Ah, Kiku! I'm so glad to see you again~" He exclaimed.

Ludwig-san was nowhere in sight. It was now or never.

"I'm happy to see Feliciano-kun, too," Kiku replied. "Now, where is he?"

The Italy imposter seemed to not comprehend the question, yet Kiku could feel the temperature of the room drop several degrees and tried to repress a shiver.

"Say, Kiku," The other cooed, eyes opening slightly, "What would make you ask a question like that?"

With that response, Kiku knew that his assumption was correct. This person was not Feliciano-kun. The look in their eyes was different, a dangerous glint present in them. The smile, as he'd thought before, simply did not fit and failed to give off a happy vibe. The smile seemed sinister, somehow, which was an expression that did _not_ belong on the bubbly Italian's face.

"What have you done to him?" Kiku asked calmly, taking a step forward despite the unease weighing on his shoulders. He tried not to flinch when the other stood up and took a step forward as well.

"Are you really so eager to find out?" The imposter grinned, leaning in far too close for comfort.

"I—"

Before he could get the words out, a piercing pain shot through him. He gasped and coughed, blood dripping from his mouth and onto the blade sticking out of his chest. Trembling with pain, Kiku managed to turn his head to shakily glance back at the katana's origin. His eyes widened.

"Y-You…"

The katana's owner was none other than himself.

* * *

"Sorry Feliciano, Kiku, the paperwork took a lot longer than I thought," Ludwig said, looking somewhat sheepish. "I hope I haven't kept you waiting for too long."

"No, not at all!" Feliciano reassured, "I'm just happy that we can finally have lunch now! Right, Kiku?"

"Hai."

"Well, now that I have things sorted, we can go out for lunch… und don't worry about paying; you two are guests here at my place, so I'll cover the bill," Ludwig added with a sigh.

"Ve~ Lead the way, Ludwig!" Feliciano cheered.

After telling Gilbert where they were going, Ludwig led his two friends to one of his favorite lunch establishments and allowed them to order anything ("Within _reason_ , Italien!").

"Wasn't this a great idea, Ludwig?" Feliciano asked upon finishing his food.

"Ja, I suppose," The German admitted. "It is nice to have friends over once in a while."

"Hai, I second the notion," Kiku agreed.

As Ludwig took out money to pay the bill for the three of them, he failed to notice the meaningful glance and sinister grins exchanged between his two friends.

 **Look, another update! Yeah, this chapter is a lot shorter than the last one, but it's meant to be more of a transition than anything. And, uh, sorry for any inconsistencies or confusion on the timeline.**

 ***Basically, no matter where in the world they are, the Nations can instantly find themselves at another Nation's place. Meant for plot purposes as normal time travel would just complicate things.**


	9. Chapter 8

**~*Chapter Eight*~**

"Are you really so eager to find out?" Luciano grinned, leaning in closer to the visibly shaken nation.

"I—"

The sickening sound of a blade stabbing through flesh echoed pleasantly in his ears as he watched Japan cough and splutter in shock. He feebly grasped the blade sticking through his chest, moving with jerky movements to discern his attacker.

"You…" Japan rasped, trembling with the effort to stay upright.

"Disappear," Kuro said, expression apathetic. He yanked his katana back in one fluid motion, Japan collapsing soon after.

Luciano sighed, shaking his head. "So cruel, Kuro. Who's going to clean this up?"

The Japanese alternate said nothing, sheathing his bloody weapon and admiring his handiwork. His alternate had dropped his guard, having not even heard Kuro slip out of the mirror hanging behind him. Luciano had done well in distracting him in order to provide the perfect opportunity to strike. He eyed the fallen nation with distaste. He was weak.

"Ah, Kuro. It will take too long to simply wait for him to regenerate into our world. We'll speed up the process. Here, grab a leg," Luciano said. He was already reaching for one of the unconscious Japan's arms.

"No," Kuro barked suddenly, "Let me."

Luciano raised an eyebrow in question, but otherwise stepped back and allowed Kuro to continue. He watched idly as his subordinate lifted the fallen nation with ease, slinging Japan carelessly over his shoulder. Kuro glanced over, silently awaiting further instruction. Ah, these allies of his were never big talkers.

"You'll have to get him through the mirror. Since you're already here on this side, you won't meet any resistance if you just shove him through," Luciano explained casually.

Kuro gave a nod of acknowledgment before stepping in front of the mirror. If he squinted, he could make out the figure of Lutz waiting on the other side. He would take Japan back to Luciano's place and keep an eye on both the prisoners until further notice. It was discussed in their plans the previous night.

…

 _"Ah, nice to see the two of you again," Luciano said. "Have you anything to report~?"_

 _"Kuro strangled your alternate earlier," Lutz supplied. Kuro didn't even flinch at the reveal, instead meeting Luciano's displeased gaze evenly._

 _"Is that so? Didn't I tell you to treat him somewhat properly?" The Italian scolded, waving a finger in front of the mirror._

 _"Hai."_

 _"And did you?"_

 _"No."_

 _"Why not?" Luciano pressed, growing impatient with the other's monosyllabic answers._

 _"He was being loud. Annoying."_

 _Luciano shook his head. "Forget it. Anything else, Lutz?"_

 _"We've kept tabs on the nations here in our world. Nothing to report except…"_

 _"Except what?" Luciano hissed, remembering in time to keep his voice down. Lovino was in the next room asleep, after all._

 _"…Oliver wasn't at his home. We don't know where he has gone, to be honest."_

 _"Is that all?" Luciano scoffed. "He's hardly anything to worry about. He's a moron, and the only reason why I haven't killed him is because he hides behind those bastards Jason and Riley*. Anything else?"_

 _"No," Both subordinates replied. Luciano grinned, now hazel eyes glinting with sadistic delight._

 _"We'll move on, then. Kuro, I need you in order to begin the next phase. You are to move in and replace this world's Japan. Wait for the perfect opportunity and strike when he least expects it," Luciano explained._

 _"Hai."_

 _"Lutz. You are to help monitor the alternate Japan. Keep an eye on him and my own alternate whenever you have both within your grasp."_

 _"Ja, understood," Lutz replied. "Is that all you'll have us do?"_

 _"Yes. Now, remember your roles, and most importantly," Luciano added, looking each of his allies in the eye, "Do not fail me."_

…

"Need any help there, Kuro?" Luciano cooed, blood-soaked cloth in hand. He had decided to begin cleaning up the evidence left behind by Japan's "demise".

"No," Kuro shot back, shaking his head to clear out his thoughts. He lifted Japan's unconscious frame into his arms and worked to maneuver him through the mirror.

Striking him here hadn't been a part of the plan, but Kuro knew it would've been detrimental to their plan had he waited any longer. Japan would have convinced Germany of the danger lurking just around the corner, blowing Luciano's cover. The Italian would not have liked that; all his time acting like a fool would have been for nothing if he suddenly failed here. No, taking down his alternate had been the right decision.

Lutz reached over and was able to grasp hold of Japan as he passed through the mirror. Kuro let go once he was sure Lutz wouldn't drop him. He turned to Luciano, the deed now done and nothing at the scene to indicate what had just happened.

"Good job, Kuro. You should be fine to behave as you usually do, as this world's Japan isn't too big on talking either," Luciano told him. "Though, you should be extremely polite and hide any homicidal tendencies, just in case."

"Understood."

Kuro glanced at the mirror, blinking in surprise as he realized his red irises had already faded to a warmer brown color. His eyes were the only visible difference when compared to his alternate. The change was simple, yet interesting nonetheless. Germany entered the room not too long after, the two alternates having cut their timing extremely close. Luciano had quickly resumed his role as the foolish Feliciano while Kuro attempted to behave as he was told to earlier.

The German had no idea that nothing was as it seemed.

* * *

Canada ran until he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet, his breath coming out in sobbing gasps as panicked tears pricked his eyes.

Despite having attended the last World meeting, there were still several things he had yet to discuss so he dropped by Germany's place in order to get some points across. Luckily, the nation hadn't minded too terribly and Prussia had even greeted him at the door. The little meeting had gone well as Canada was able to share several ideas that no one had heard him say at the meeting. It wasn't until he was getting ready to leave that things had gone terribly wrong.

Canada walked into the living room from Germany's office, fully intending to grab his coat and leave when he noticed Japan and Italy were there. He assumed Prussia let them in and was about to greet them when he caught wind of their conversation. He felt his eyes widen with each word exchanged, realizing with an odd mix of horror and relief that the two didn't notice he was there. Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, he saw a figure rise up from behind Japan. Canada tried to warn him, but the words lodged in his throat just as the newcomer shoved a sword through Japan's chest.

Terrified, Canada didn't dare linger any longer. He bolted, hoping that he remained unnoticed. He had never felt so grateful to be 'invisible'. It was a blessing and a curse, he supposed.

Finally coming to a stop, Canada looked up to find himself in somewhat familiar surroundings. In his panic, he had run straight to America's place, which wasn't too far from his own. Maybe his neighbor and brother would know what to do. He approached the front door and gave a few quick, urgent knocks, hoping the other was home. To his relief, the door opened.

"'Sup, bro?" The other greeted, a wide grin on his face. "Miss me already?"

"A-Alfred, it was t-terrible!" Canada cried. "I-I was—and then h-he—Oh, god the b-blood…"

Alfred frowned, taking in the poor state his brother was in. "I think you should come in for a bit, Mattie."

* * *

Lukas had done as England asked of him.

Since their little talk, he had been keeping a close eye on Italy Veneziano, though he exercised extreme caution while doing so. The Italian, on the surface, appeared as cheerful as always. However, he was quick to scowl when he thought no one was looking. Something was wrong, and Lukas was going to get to the bottom of it.

As England predicted, Italy did not seem to consider Lukas a threat. As far as he could tell, anyway; the Italian had not approached him with a knife in hand yet. Still, the nation of Norway kept his guard up and took to observing the Italian from a distance. From the comfort of his home, actually. Using a bit of magic (he wasn't sure if Italy could sense its presence, so he used a small amount), he closed his eyes and sat in a position most considered a form of meditation. It was accurate to say that he was meditating, in a sense, though he was more set on trying to focus on the image conjured in his mind's eye.

With this spell, he was able to watch any particular person in real time, no matter where they were. All he needed was the image of their face in mind and he was set. It was with this method that he witnessed Luciano—as that was the name he learned the Italian went by—communicate with two people through a mirror. Upon learning his next move, Lukas broke the connection and stood. Across the room, Iceland looked up from his book.

"Something wrong?"

While the Nordics each had their own place, they tended to stick in a group the majority of the time. Emil, or "Icy", as Mathias teased, often complained that doing so hindered individuality, though Tino countered that he thought it was nice that they all spent so much time together. In current time, Emil was the only Nordic nation present. Lukas remembered with slight remorse that he had yet to properly talk to Mathias since he had snapped at him, and Berwald and Tino had left with the promise of bringing back something to eat.

Lukas sighed. "I'm afraid so. I need to make a call, so just stay put."

He left Emil in the living room while he went to his personal office. Once alone, he took out his phone and dialed England's number. Lukas waited for the other nation to pick up, drumming his fingers impatiently on the desk. Finally, he heard England's voice as he answered.

"'Ello?"

"Yes, England, this is Norway," He replied with urgency, "I just learned something about Italy Veneziano."

 **I didn't intend to have that large portion with the 2p characters in the beginning, but it just wanted to be written. No regrets.**

 ***Jason=2p! America while Riley= 2p! Canada. I know the more common names are Allen and Matt, but I wanted to deviate a bit from the norm. Personal preference, I guess.**


	10. Chapter 9

**~*Chapter Nine*~**

Gilbert, despite popular belief, had little to fill out his day.

Most of the time, when he grew bored of reading his old journals or pestering his brother, he resorted to drinking. Never mind that it was a bad habit to drink out of boredom; it wasn't as if he would drop dead from alcohol poisoning. However, it was on this particular day that there wasn't a trace of booze to be found at home. While it would be the responsible thing to go to the store and get more (along with other necessary groceries), Gilbert knew it would be easier to just find a bar and drink there instead.

"Sometimes I surprise myself with mein awesome ideas," He snickered to himself.

On his way out the door, he remembered that he should probably leave a note to tell Ludwig where he was going. The last time he left without saying anything, the German sent a fucking _search party_ to look for him. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but the fuss his brother made over him was a little embarrassing. To this day, England and Denmark made it a point to bring it up every time they were out drinking together. Speaking of which…

"Dänemark? What are you doing here?"

Upon entering one of his favorite taverns, he noticed the lone figure at the bar and quickly recognized him as one of his usual drinking buddies.

"Eh?" Denmark looked up groggily. "Oh, 's you. Jus' thought I'd drop by an' all."

"Drinking without the Awesome Me? You've got some nerve!" Gilbert cackled, taking a seat next to his friend. "So, what's up?"

While the formerly known nation of Prussia came across as self-centered and arrogant the majority of the time, he was a bit more observant than most gave him credit for. While he usually drank for fun, he was no stranger to drinking his feelings away. He couldn't help but notice that Denmark was doing the latter.

"Ah, 's nothin'," Denmark replied, words slightly slurred. Gilbert frowned; the other must have had quite a few drinks if he was this disoriented. As part of the notorious Drinking Trio, he was known for either excessive drinking or the ability to hold his liquor, after all.

"C'mon, broha, even I can tell something is bothering you."

After a bit of hesitation, Denmark sighed. "Jus' feelin' down lately."

After that, it didn't take much more prompting to get the drunk Dane to spill his guts. Alcohol usually loosened the tongue, as they say. Within the next hour, Gilbert learned that Denmark missed the days when the other Nordics depended on him and how he felt like Norway hated him. He was also told of a recent incident at the last World meeting where Norway had behaved rather coldly. Gilbert did his best to reassure his friend that the other Nordics were normally cold nations and that he shouldn't take certain things too seriously, though he felt most of his advice fell on deaf ears.

"I mean, 's like he prefers hangin' out with his magic friends instead o' th' res' o' us!" Denmark whined. "Not my fault if I can't see stupid faeries an' trolls…"

"Und we're done here," Gilbert sighed. He decided that the easiest way to solve the problem was to have Denmark talk to the other Nordics about his insecurities.

Paying for their drinks, he hauled the other nation to his feet and started what he felt to be a long walk to Norway's place.

* * *

"Wow, that's, uh, not good. I mean, wow, man, are you sure?"

"For the last time, Alfred, I saw Japan get attacked at Germany's house!" Canada whisper-shouted. It was a challenge for him to surpass a certain level of loudness, no matter how upset he was.

"Okay…"

As the personification of America, he was used to over-the-top stories and situations, though this had to take the cake. To be fair, it was hard for Alfred to believe that Kiku, one of his best friends, was just killed by Italy and a _clone_. Because honestly, who would come up with such a sick story? Certainly not Matthew.

"Did someone put you up to this? Just tell me and I'll kick their ass," Alfred said, a dark look crossing his features. Matthew shook his head.

"N-No! You have to believe me, Alfred! I don't think anyone else will…"

Alfred sighed, scratching the back of his head. He took into account the fierceness of the other's tone, the pleading look in his eyes bloodshot from crying. Matthew seemed completely sincere and terrified by what he had witnessed. Just less than an hour before, his brother had come to his front door. He was on the verge of passing out by hyperventilating on the spot, yet he still struggled to get his words out. Who was he to deny his brother this after what he had gone through? It was a hero's job to help out with these sorts of things, right?

"Okay."

"Okay?" Matthew said incredulously. "So you believe me?"

"Yeah," Alfred nodded. "It sounds pretty crazy and… I'd be lying if I said I wasn't upset about J-Japan."

Matthew looked down, suddenly feeling a wave of guilt and slight nausea wash over him. Why did he freeze up? Could he have saved Japan? Why hadn't he gone to find Germany or Prussia? He knew the answers to these questions, as much as he hated to admit it. He had been afraid. He wasn't strong. He was too busy worrying about getting caught.

"I'm sorry," He sniffled. "I, I could have—"

"Matthew."

He looked up in surprise as a hand came down onto his shoulder, seeing one of his brother's most reassuring grins before him. He blinked back several more tears as he was overcome by sudden emotion.

"B-But—"

"Don't beat yourself up over this, Mattie. Sure, maybe a lot of things _could_ have happened differently, but you don't know that. What's important is what we do next, okay?" Alfred told him, a determined look crossing his features. "Now, let's go."

"H-Huh? Go _where?"_ Matthew asked, eyes wide in confusion. Alfred merely grinned, offering a hand to his brother as he stood.

"We're dealing with a killer clone, right?" At Matthew's slow nod, he continued, "So we should talk to the guy that deals with this sort of stuff all the time."

"And who might that be?"

Alfred's grin broadened. "Arthur."

* * *

"What can you tell me about Luciano?"

Oliver stopped humming and looked up, an odd look crossing his features. "Pardon?"

"W-Well," Feliciano hesitated, "What… kind of person is he?"

Deep down, the Italian knew how ridiculous his question must have sounded. After all, Luciano was the one that "killed" him and sent him to this scary place. But he also knew that this was his chance to learn a little more about what he was up against, and Oliver had promised to help him in any way he could.

"Luciano, hm? Welllll," Oliver paused, tapping a finger to his chin as he contemplated, "He's a frightening fellow, I can tell you that much."

"Um, a-anything else?"

"What else do you want me to say, poppet? That he's ruled our world since plunging it into darkness decades ago? That he's the reason it's not safe to go outside anymore? That he's single-handedly reduced our existence as nations to rubbish?" Oliver chuckled humorlessly, "Oh, I could go on all day about the things he's _done!"_

Feliciano wasn't sure of the answer he'd been expecting, but it surely wasn't _that_. Perhaps it was time to change topics before Oliver went back on his word and hurt him. However, before he had the chance to do so, the Englishman slapped a hand over his mouth, shushing him when he made a muffled sound.

"Someone's here," Oliver murmured, glancing around urgently. "We need to leave."

Feliciano wriggled out of his grasp, trying his best not to scream and cry as he normally would. "B-But you just said it's not s-safe to go outside!"

"For humans," Oliver corrected. "Now, we need to sneak out before they catch me in here. Who knows what would happen~?"

Feliciano could have been imagining it, but it sounded as though Oliver wasn't too concerned about getting caught. Another thought occurred to him: if this was Luciano's home, how did Oliver get here in the first place? Or better yet, _why_ was he here?

Maybe he should have asked those questions sooner.

 **AN: Another transitional chapter, I suppose. But it's all leading up to something big, I promise! Until next time~**


End file.
